


Differing Tastes

by Fyre



Series: Hunger [6]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel with Genitalia, Asexuality Spectrum, Drunk Sex, Dysphoria, First Time, Intimacy, Love, Nonbinary Character, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 14:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: Thing is Crowley’s never really even thought about it before. It never came up. Not really something he’d even thought about, not when the only person he’d’ve considered anything with wouldn’t even touch him. Not like he’d really paid much attention to how it all worked either. Yeah, technically, slot A, tab B and all that, depending on gender arrangements, but he’s neveractually…But now, ‘ziraphale’s warm and touching him and if he’s going to try with anyone, if he’s going to try even once, why not, eh? ‘Ziraphale likes his human things. Maybe it’ll be fun.





	Differing Tastes

**Author's Note:**

> I knew this would probably inevitably happen, because any time I say "I won't write smut", I end up writing smut. But this did not go as planned and so, I am pleased :)

All things told, s’been a good night.

First, one of Shakespeare’s numbers down the local theatre. Not very good acting, but all heart and daft costumes. Aziraphale loved it. Then dinner down the little bistro a couple of towns over. No surprise, Aziraphale loved that and all.

Now, they’re on the couch with a bottle between them, third or fourth of the evening, and s’nice. Moon is up and rooms all silvery and all s’nice. Aziraphale’s tucked between his legs, his back warm against Crowley’s chest.

The angel holds up his glass. “Crowley?”

“Mm?” Crowley carefully balances the lip of the bottle on the rim of the glass, pouring a little bit more in.

“Have you–” Aziraphale gives a drowsy hiccup. “Humans do– when humans… when they’re fond of each other, you know they…” He waves a hand, sloshing wine over his fingers. He frowns. “Oh, bother.”

“Humans what?” Crowley catches silly angel’s hand and licks the wine off his fingers. No good wasting it.

“You know.” Aziraphale moves his glass to his dry hand, offering his wet, sticky fingers to Crowley. Nice offer, that. Until Aziraphale says something that almost makes him choke on the angel’s bloody thumb. “Fornication.”

He sputters and coughs, yanking Aziraphale’s hand away from his mouth, about fifty percent more sober than he was ten seconds ago. “Y’what?”

Aziraphale hums, wriggling against him. “I was thinking,” he says. “They seem to enjoy it quite a lot, don’t they? I mean, they must, because babies. Lots of babies.” He squirms around to beam up at Crowley. “It mustn’t be all that bad, must it?”

Crowley blinks at him. “And?”

Aziraphale looks at him, as if he can’t understand the question. “Well would you like to? Fornicate?”

Crowley is very, very glad he doesn’t still have fingers in his mouth. “What do you we think we’ve been doing all this time?” he demands.

Aziraphale waves his sticky hand. “Oh, no, no, not that. That’s love-making, darling.” He leans over Crowley’s thigh to put the glass on the floor and wiggles around until they’re nose to nose. “Do you think we ought to…” His eyes are dark and liquid and there’s mischief around his lips. “Fuck?”

For a demon, swallowing his tongue is a very, very literal thing. “Ngh?”

“I mean, it sounds awfully…” The angel’s nose wrinkles. “Well… messy, to be quite honest, but I’ve tried so many human things and I never had a chance to try that one before.”

Crowley stares at him, wondering if he’s a complete idiot. Maybe he didn’t notice all the humans bending over backwards to get over – and under – him. “Uh.”

“I’m sure you probably have,” Aziraphale continues, gently patting Crowley’s chest. “Maybe you can show me how it all works?”

“Mayb– I can– WHAT?” Crowley is fairly sure his head is about to combust from the blush accelerating up his face. “Christ, angel! Do you thinking I’ve been shagging my way through history just because I’m a demon?”

Aziraphale blinks at him in confusion. “You haven’t? But _look_ at you. Who wouldn’t?”

The blush has reached volcanic temperatures. “Urk.”

The soft, wondering look on Aziraphale’s face almost takes his breath away. “You mean– I would be your–” He giggles, as if he’s thought of something naughty and leans up, his breath hot against Crowley’s ear. “I would take your virginity?”

“NGH!” Crowley tries to swallow, very, very, very sober, very, very quickly. He gropes for the bottle, taking a deep drink, then another. Aziraphale doesn’t help matters, nuzzling at his jaw and dabbing small, contented little licks against his pulsepoint. “Oh, fuck, angel!”

The angel lifts his head, all bright eyes and warm, hungry smile. “Well?” he asks hopefully. “Shall we try?”

Half a bottle more of wine helps.

Thing is…

Thing is Crowley’s never really even thought about it before. It never came up. Not really something he’d even thought about, not when the only person he’d’ve considered anything with wouldn’t even touch him. Not like he’d really paid much attention to how it all worked either. Yeah, technically, slot A, tab B and all that, depending on gender arrangements, but he’s never _actually_…

But now, ‘ziraphale’s warm and touching him and if he’s going to try with anyone, if he’s going to try even once, why not, eh? ‘Ziraphale likes his human things. Maybe it’ll be fun.

He lifts his hand to stroke the angel’s pink cheek. “Why not?” he says.

Aziraphale kisses him on the mouth. Almost on the mouth, anyway. Bit to the side, sloppy and wet and they both laugh. “Which ones?” he asks, pushing himself up and tugging at his buttons. “Do you want to have the…” He wrinkles his nose again. “I want to say… sheath? Is that what it is?”

“Latin, angel,” Crowley watches him, all soft and warm and pink. “_Vagina_.”

“Vagina,” Aziraphale echoes, beaming. “Yes. That’s the word. Do you want that one or the stamen?”

Crowley snorts. “Stamen? Do I look like a bloody rhododendron to you?”

Aziraphale swats at him. “You know quite well what I’m talking about, you silly boy.”

Crowley leans closer, tugging on the angel’s buttons until his shirt and waistcoat are hanging off him and he’s all there and warm and wobbly. “Could try both?” he suggests. “Give old whatsisface a run for his money, eh?”

“Whatsisface?” Aziraphale busies himself undoing Crowley’s shirt.

“You know,” Crowley reaches up to stroke the angel’s fluffy hair. “Whatsisface? Blind one? With the bloke who shagged his mum?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s eyes light up. “Teirisias? Yes!” He sits back to shake his shirt off and it says how tipsy he is that he lets it fall on the floor. He brushes his hands down his chest, then frowns. “Do you think I should have a bosom? They seem quite popular?”

“Er…”

As long as they’ve known each other, Aziraphale has always, _always_ been the same and the idea of him being… having…

“I don’t think y’really need them,” he manages. “I mean, I’ve had ‘em. Not worth the fuss, really.”

Aziraphale beams at him. “All right, then.” He gives his nipples a thoughtful look, then brushes his fingers over them. “These will do nicely.” He leans into Crowley’s space and pulls his shirt open, sending buttons popping all over the place.

“Oi!”

Aziraphale gives him an utterly unapologetic look, then runs his thumbs casually over Crowley’s own nipples like he’d check a mango for ripeness. “Lovely!”

“Oi!!!” Crowley swats his hands away. “Stop that!”

Aziraphale sniffs primly. “I wanted to be sure we were both equipped.”

Crowley stares at him. “D’you ever _not_ have nipples?”

“Well, no!”

“So why wouldn’t I?” Aziraphale opens his mouth to reply and Crowley jabs him on the nose with his finger. “I didn’t have none! I had eight! And that was just because we were in India.” He pauses, considering. “And there was that time I saw Shadwell. Had a mesh top on and everything. Even made them in a smiley face. D’you know he didn’t even notice?” He sighed. “I picked that shirt special and everything.”

“Oh, shush,” Aziraphale says happily, pushing Crowley’s shirt off his shoulders. “So which one would you like to try first? Inside one or outside one?”

“Eh?”

Aziraphale makes a vague gesture towards his groin. “Which one?”

Crowley shrugs, flapping his arms loose from his sleeves. “What do you fancy?”

Aziraphale gives him a long, thoughtful look. “You know, I’d quite like to see what it would be like for you to be inside me.”

“Eh?” Crowley frowns at him. “I’ve _been_ inside you. All the way inside you.”

The angel waves a dismissive hand. “Well, that didn’t count. I wasn’t there at the time, was I?”

“Eh.” Crowley wrinkles his nose. “So which way, then? You know humans. They’ll put their bits inside any hole they can find."

“Oh, _really_!” Aziraphale swats him as if he’s not the one suggesting they should interlock parts they don’t have yet. He fumbles with his trousers. Buttons are always so bloody fiddly, so Crowley leans in to give him a hand. “Shall I be… the… vagina part, then?”

Crowley looks up with a grin. “Want me to put my sword on your sheath, eh?”

Aziraphale looks like he’s trying to be annoyed, but it never works when his lips twitch like that. “Oh, behave yourself,” he scolds, kneeling up on the couch and pushing down his trousers. He pauses, frowning. “Do you think we ought to put down plastic?”

Crowley bursts out laughing. “We’re shagging, angel! We’re not decorating!” He squirms a little bit closer to undo Aziraphale’s drawers. “I can clean up after.”

“Oh, would you?” Aziraphale catches his cheek in one hand, his expression all soft and delighted and Crowley forgets all about drawers and buttons to lean in and kiss him. Aziraphale makes another happier sound, and wraps his arms around Crowley’s shoulders, crowding him back against the arm of the couch.

For a bit, Crowley forgets all about why Aziraphale’s trousers are half off and pinning his leg down, quite happy to lie there, licking and gently nipping at his angel’s warm, sweet mouth. Still tastes of wine as well and he’s nice and heavy on Crowley’s body, right up until the minute Aziraphale shifts his weight and he’s suddenly straddling Crowley’s thigh.

The sound the angel makes is enough to make Crowley pull back.

“You all right?”

Aziraphale blinks at him, then wriggles his hips, as if he’s scratching an itch between his thighs. “Oh.”

Crowley squints down between their bodies, but it’s bloody hard to see anything with Aziraphale’s lovely soft belly in the way. “Changed, have you?”

“Mm.” Aziraphale’s nose wrinkles in confusion. “It’s all… squishy.”

Crowley snickers. “Yeah?” He slips his hand down to finish unbuttoning Aziraphale’s drawers and pushes his hand into them. “Up a bit, angel?”

Aziraphale lifts himself enough for Crowley to move his hand around experimentally, where smooth flat flesh is now all hot and damp folds of skin that seem to get bigger as he touches.

“Ah!” Aziraphale’s eyes widen a bit. “Oh. Gosh.”

“Good gosh?” Crowley asked, moving his fingers carefully. “Bad gosh? Talk to me, angel.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks are pinker and he blinks owlishly and wriggles again, pushing himself against Crowley’s hand.

“Good gosh,” Crowley guesses, grinning.

“It’s… rather nice,” Aziraphale says, wiggling his hips so much his belly jiggles against Crowley’s arm. “It’s very… wet, though, isn’t it?”

“Think it kind of has to be,” Crowley says, exploring these new and interestingly slippery places.

“Mm.” The angel’s nose wrinkles delicately, as if he’s just spotted a stain on his cuff. “Well. _That_ part doesn’t feel very pleasant.”

Crowley nods, concentrating on his fingers. He’s found something new and he keeps his eyes on Aziraphale’s face as he gently _pushes_ a finger. Aziraphale’s lips open in a silent O and his eyes are just about as round and he grabs at Crowley’s wrist with both hands.

“No?” Crowley draws his finger back at once.

Aziraphale swallows hard and wets his lips. “Not yet.” He moves one hand and tugs at Crowley’s belt. “I would like to do it properly.”

Crowley bursts out laughing again. “Properly. _Nothing_ we do is proper.” He goes back to stroking his fingers back and forth and when Aziraphale doesn’t complain, busy fumbling with the belt, he tries rubbing with a bit more of his hand close to the front. Doesn’t know much about biology but he’s seen enough to know what he’s sort of aiming for.

“Oh _Lord_!”

Crowley grins at him, all teeth. “Found it first time! I should get a prize!”

The angel gives him a half-amused, half-exasperated look, but it doesn’t stop him rubbing himself against the heel of Crowley’s hand. “You could _help_.”

“I am.” He wiggles his fingers to make the point.

“You,” the angel sniffs disdainfully, “have another hand.”

Crowley snickers. “Didn’t think you’d be in so much of a rush.”

Aziraphale tugs at the belt again. “The sooner we get on with it, the sooner I can get a towel.” He shifts again. “You must be sopping by now.”

“As it should be, f’I’m doing it right,” Crowley retorts, but he has to admit he’s kind of curious to see where it all goes. He brushes Aziraphale’s hands away with his other hand. “How big d’you want it?”

Aziraphale peers at him curiously. “Well, I’ve heard people say size doesn’t matter.”

“Ha! People talk bollocks.” A snap of his fingers and his trousers vanish and he tries very hard to concentrate.

“Oh!” A pair of warm hands grab his newest – and still very tender – part.

“NGH!”

“Oh! Would you look at that!” Crowley tries to focus his crossed eyes on the angel and ignore the hands gently stroking and petting him. “It stands up all by itself.”

“Y-yeah. You–” Crowley swallows hard. “You never seen the graffiti?”

Aziraphale makes a face at him. “It’s not the same in three dimensions.” His eyes light up. “Oh, I have an idea.”

Suddenly Crowley’s hand is bare and wet and Aziraphale is kneeling and Crowley has three seconds of notice before…

“GNAH!!!”

Aziraphale lifts his head with a laugh. “Oh! Salty!” He gives Crowley a poke. “Oh my, look at that, would you?” One hand wraps around it, swaying it like a conductor’s baton. “I could make a marvellous cudgel out of that.”

“A-angel…” Crowley clutches at the side of the couch, feet scudding on the seat and on the carpet. “D’you mind?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale clasps his hands in front of his chest. “It’s attached, isn’t it?” He giggles, shaking his head. “Silly me!”

“Yeah…” The breath is not coming anywhere near Crowley’s lungs and he presses his hand to his mouth. His wet hand. His shining hand. His hand that smells of Aziraphale. He can’t stop himself from licking his fingers. Couldn’t even if someone told him to.

Aziraphale prods his knee. “Do you think we’re all ready?”

“Mm?” Crowley pulls his finger out of his mouth. “Eh?”

The angel flaps his hand vaguely. “Your… thing is up. Does that mean its ready?”

Crowley eyes it. Definitely looks up. Definitely feels very up and wanting more touching. “Think so?” he guesses.

“Oh good!” At once, he has an angel in his lap, pressing his new appendage against his belly. He hisses between his teeth. “Can you put it in, then?”

He nods, tries to nod and forces his hands onto Aziraphale’s hips. “Up,” he croaks.

The wet is suddenly very good and they’re slipping.

“Oh!” Aziraphale says indignantly. “You missed!”

“Don’t tell me how to drive, angel,” Crowley grumbles, reaching down between them and fumbling, trying to hold that… wobbly thing steady. Hard to aim when you can’t see where you’re going as well, and then he finds it and presses and before he can pull his hand out of the way, Aziraphale sits down suddenly on him, making them both yelp.

A wet farting sound squeaks between them and they stare at each other. Crowley tries his best to keep a straight face, but Aziraphale’s tightly pressed lips tremble and they both start laughing like they’ll never stop.

“What the hell was that?” Crowley demands, shaking his head, trying not to focus on the hot wetness on his bare legs.

“Not me!” Aziraphale protests, his laughter vibrating all the way through his body and right down to Crowley’s bones. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Find _that_ hard to believe,” Crowley giggles. Yeah, he’s giggling. Can’t help it now. He squeezes his hand out from under Aziraphale’s body. He pats Aziraphale’s soft pink thigh. “Happy now? You’re fornicating.”

Aziraphale’s face goes a shade pinker. “I-I am a bit, aren’t I?” His knees squeeze in on either side of Crowley’s hips, and somehow, that is far, far better. The angel leans over him, pressing his hands to the arm of the couch behind Crowley and bites his lip as he lifts himself up. The friction makes Crowley knock his head back, his hands bruising plump angelic flesh. “Is that all right?”

It’s weird. It’s all weird and new. Not bad new, but he’s not quite sure if it’s good new. It’s… different. And different is difficult on its own, so he tilts his head back, baring his throat. “I’m a bit bare, angel.”

When lips and teeth press to his throat, he almost forgets about the place where they’re joined. Aziraphale bites hard enough to bruise and _that’s_ good. He kneads at the angel’s thighs, rolling his head to the other side. Another bite, harder, and then Aziraphale starts to move. It’s weird and warm and pressing and squeezing and he ignores it for the mouth on his throat and the small, greedy little noises Aziraphale’s making as he enjoys himself. Slides his hands up to catch the angel’s hips, helps him find a rhythm. Christ knows he hasn’t got any of his own.

The angel is breathing harder when he sits up, his hands moving to squeeze with delicious tightness on Crowley’s bare shoulders. His nails scratch and it’s enough to make Crowley shudder, pushing his body against Aziraphale’s encouragingly.

It doesn’t take all that long, not for the angel, especially not when Crowley slides a hand down between them and lets the angel rub himself against it. Aziraphale’s little sounds become a lot more urgent, and God, it’s a good sound. He looks amazing, rosy-cheeked, eyes shining, lower lip caught between his teeth and when he’s done, he’s almost glowing.

“Mm.” He sways forward again, pinning Crowley snugly back on the couch, and tries to kiss him. His lips slide off and his face ends up buried in Crowley’s hair on the cushions.

Crowley lightly strokes his back. “Good?” he murmurs.

“Quite.” Lips settle at Crowley’s throat, a tongue lapping slowly, lazily. That more than anything makes his hips move. He’s still not… finished, he supposes. Body is still keen, but he’s not sure he can get anything out of rubbing a bit of himself against Aziraphale that isn’t… technically, really part of him. He lets himself move. Feels nice enough, but…

Aziraphale lifts his head a few minutes later, gazing at him. “Not your thing, is it?”

Crowley shakes his head. “Nah.” One side of his mouth turns up. “Worth a try though, eh?”

The affection in the angel’s eyes makes him duck his head.

“You,” Aziraphale says so earnestly he must’ve sobered himself up, “are the most darling of creatures.”

Crowley snorts. “Shut up,” he says, lifting his hand to stroke the angel’s hair.

Aziraphale leans into his touch. “Would you like me to see if I can help? With your… thingie?”

“You can call it what it is,” Crowley says with a crooked smile. “A cock.”

The angel’s lips twist into a moue. “It sounds so crass, though.” He braces his hands on Crowley’s chest and pushes himself up to sit and Crowley winces as they slide against each other again. “You know what I think you might like?” The angel says, drumming his fingers on Crowley’s chest.

“A towel?”

“I think,” Aziraphale says, as if he hasn’t spoken, “you would like me to use my mouth on you, wouldn’t you?”

Crowley’s throat is suddenly very dry. “Maybe.”

“Oh, darling, I think you would.” Aziraphale pushes himself upwards, though he wobbles as he gets to his feet and Crowley reaches out to steady him. Aziraphale beams at him, as if he has set the heavens. Which, y’know, he has, but that’s neither here nor there. The angel bends over him, cupping his cheek tenderly. “Oh my dear,” he breathes, “I’m going to eat you alive.”

Crowley’s heart thunders and licks his lips. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” Aziraphale folds to his knees, but instead of going straight to the new bit, he dips his head and starts on Crowley’s nipples. He tongues and he bites, drawing on them until Crowley is hissing through his teeth. “You _do_ taste rather nice,” he all but growls, moving down, across ribs, leaving burning scattered lovebites across Crowley’s twitching belly as Crowley whimpers and squirms under him. “Delicious, even.”

“Angel…” Crowley groans, reaching down to tug on Aziraphale’s hair.

A single kiss is placed on the end of his new cock and he doesn’t even care because next thing he knows is a searing bite is burning high up his thigh. His legs jerk and he gropes for Aziraphale. A hand slips into his, fingers weaving between his own, and another bite on the other thigh makes him yowl at the ceiling.

A warm hand brushes his thigh. “Darling,” Aziraphale says, his voice rough and warm. “Do you want me to touch your…” The distaste is visible on his face at saying the word, “…cock? Or would you prefer I touched elsewhere? You can get rid of it if you want.”

“Oh, thank God,” Crowley groans, feeling his flesh melt back into his more familiar form. “Sorry, angel.”

“No apologies, my dear.” Aziraphale presses his mouth to the place where the now-absent cock had stood and somehow, that sends flickers of want through him more than any sensitive squashy parts. “Whatever you want,” the angel breathes against his skin, brushing lips and cheek deliciously against him. “You know I adore you.”

Crowley squirms, shivering as Aziraphale pulls him closer to the edge of the couch, cradling his backside in those gentle but oh-so-strong hands. Aziraphale’s mouth doesn’t stop moving. Kisses, licks, gentle bites and soft, gusting breath that make Crowley arch and hiss.

Those hands slip under his thighs, lifting them, and the angel is right there between his legs, his knees hooked over Aziraphale’s shoulders, as the angel devours every inch of him, and God, he’ll be bruised to Hell come morning, but he pulls Aziraphale’s mouth closer to the only part of him the angel has never touched before.

It’s… it’s daft. It’s daft how little bites, little bites can turn his brain off. Make him see stars even inside. Little bruising marks all over. Like constellations all over. All– all over. A beautiful, beautiful dark red marks on his thighs. Hard and sharp and painful and _good._

He keens, pulling at Aziraphale, pulling him up, folding his legs up between them, so he can kiss him, kiss him hard and hungry and breathless before it’s all too much and he falls. Aziraphale smiles into his mouth, then slips down to his throat again and bites hard enough to make his world spot black and he can only cling to his angel, holding him tight, until the world comes back into focus.

He tugs at Aziraphale’s curls. “Mm.”

Aziraphale runs his nose along the edge of Crowley’s jaw. “Mm.” He kisses his bruised neck again. “Better?”

“Mm.” He opens his eyes, smiling vaguely, then frowns. “Can see my toes.”

The angel laughs, drawing out of his arms and letting him lower his legs. “You are quite flexible,” he says, fondly stroking Crowley’s thigh.

Crowley looks down at himself happily. He’s all covered in lovely little marks. He brushes his fingers down across them. “That’s more like it.”

Aziraphale leans down to kiss him lightly on the thigh. “You do have your little favourites,” he says, resting his cheek against Crowley’s leg. “I’m sorry I made you do something you didn’t like.”

Crowley pets his hair. “I didn’t know I didn’t like it,” he murmurs. “Not your fault.” He smiles when Aziraphale kisses his fingertips, then his palm. “Worth a try,” he says again. “You liked it, though?”

Aziraphale nods. “It was lovely, despite the…” His nose wrinkles again. “Well, apart from the… moistness, but I would prefer to do things that please both of us than things that only please one of us.”

“Ha!” Crowley yanks his hair, pulling him back up to kiss him. “S’all you know, angel.” He drapes his arms happily around the angel’s shoulders. “I think I just found you an anniversary present.”

Aziraphale blinks at him, bemused. “Oh?”

Crowley’s grin widens. “Oh, yeah. You’re going to _love_ it.”

The angel gives him a suspicious look. “This isn’t something… naughty, is it?”

“Oh yeah.” He wraps his leg around Aziraphale’s hip, twining them together, a serpent and his angel. “And I’m gonna watch you use it.”

And somehow, despite all their time together, he’s happy to find yet another way that makes Aziraphale go even redder than usual.

**Author's Note:**

> And if you feel the need to follow me for news about more or whatever else I'm working on, you can [find me on tumblr](https://amuseoffyre.tumblr.com/) :)


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